


Free as the Sparrow

by Pallet_and_Cerulean



Category: Watership Down (Cartoon 2018), Watership Down - Richard Adams
Genre: F/F, This is really more a character study on Clover, Though the romance is there if you squint, not really a big part though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 10:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallet_and_Cerulean/pseuds/Pallet_and_Cerulean
Summary: ‘“Would you sing for me?” The question, drifting on a cool, evening breeze, had slipped off Clover’s tongue before she even knew she’d intended to ask it. And for a moment, she was stunned by her own impulses. Hyzenthlay, though, merely stopped in her browsing of a small crop of cowslip and looked at Clover. Her keen eyes were appraising, but not off-put or unkind.‘





	Free as the Sparrow

Clover had never heard a rabbit sing before. 

In the hutch, things were always quiet. Melancholy clung in air like fog, burrowing deep beneath a rabbit’s coat and sinking into their blood. It was the kind of thing you couldn’t shake, once it took hold of you. The hutch rabbits lived in solemn sadness, longing for a life they had never known. And without hope to give them something to look towards, no one had much need for words. There wasn’t anything to say when every sunrise held the same day in store for them. A day closed in the trappings of the hutch, surrounded by walls and shadow. 

It was when Clover met Hazel that she first learned of hope, first felt it flutter in her chest like a sparrow sailing high in the sky. His promises of grazing among the morning dew at sunrise and living free of the humans that ruled her life had her dreaming of things she never dared before. Formerly dark, restless sleeps were filled with idyllic longings for open meadow and tender grasses, all painted out in such vivid detail she was certain it was real. Or at least, she was certain, until she woke to the hard wood of the hutch beneath her feet. 

When she escaped, after the adrenaline and panic had faded away, after she had found Hazel alive despite all odds, she was certain there wasn’t a better feeling in the world. Even if she had only had a mere taste of freedom, Clover savored every moment of it. The breeze that ruffled in her fur, the lush grass beneath her paws, even the striking rain matting her coat to her skin all felt like paradise. It was a whole new world for her, and though it came with fears and perils, she was sure there was no bargain worth giving it up. 

But it was snatched away from her in the blink of an eye. If the downs, and their freedom, were heaven, then Efrafa was hell. Suddenly, she was as trapped as she had been in the hutch. But, at least back at the farm, she was safe and fed and cared for. In Efrafa, a doe was lucky to be neglected and black out from the heat. At least then she could have a brief respite from the burrows of brick and stone, from tyrant kings who thought it fitting to treat his rabbits like nothing more than possessions. 

Though, in that dreadful warren, that was when she heard it for the first time. 

Hyzenthlay was being dragged along to her execution, and Clover felt utterly sick with dread. No matter how much hope she had stored away, no matter how much she prayed to Frith or any other being that could help, she was starting to feel the light leave her eyes. She could feel herself becoming one of those pitiful, cowering, Efrafan rabbits. Because they had broken her friend, taken poor Hyzenthlay to tear her spirit to pieces, and her body with it. And Clover couldn’t bear the weight of it. It was the closest she ever felt to becoming one with the Thousand. 

Then, when she thought the fear and despair and hopelessness of it all would crush her, she heard it. A doe, she couldn’t pinpoint which beneath the haze of dread, started to sing. The song started quiet and sorrowful, the sound little more than a whisper of wind or a steady murmur of a heartbeat. But even then, it soothed something in Clover’s heart and pushed back against the shadows that were looming in on her. And before she knew it, the voice was growing stronger, louder, and something stirred inside her.

The song was the thread her heart needed to stitch itself back together, the light her spirit needed to run again for another day. More voices pitched in, melding together in a beautiful, inspiring call for freedom. The sorrow in the sound was replaced with strength, and Clover could feel it filling her up, settling in her bones and lifting her heart. She wouldn’t be anyone’s captive any longer. With or without Bigwig’s help, or Kehaar’s, she would escape and rescue Hyzenthlay. With all the does, she would escape. 

And she did; they all did. 

Though that wasn’t the end of it, that song stuck with Clover through it all, through the chases and battles and wearied days. It resonated in her heart with each beat, thrumming in time with her pulse and pumping its rhythm through her veins. That song was truth. It was freedom and honor and everything she needed. 

But after the battles were all won, Watership Down safe and secure, Clover found herself forgetting the haunting melody. It slipped away from her like thin streams of smoke. No matter how she tried to recall it, the song slithered from between her claws. Now that she no longer needed it, it was gone. 

It was a warm spring day, coming to an end at evening silflay. Rabbits romped in the rustling grass or nibbled through the tender shoots of budding florals. Everything was at peace under golden light as the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, casting wonderful colors across the down. Clover, though, just couldn’t quite shake the sense of disquiet that clung in the roots of her fur. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite explain, but one she felt so incredibly strongly nonetheless. It was as if a piece of her soul had grown jagged over time and needed to be smoothed down, like shards of stone tumbling in the river. 

Clover took a few lazy hops down the sloping hillside, following her impulses. And as she went a bit farther, the lively conversations behind her faded to a lulling din of background noise. The words became indistinct and blended together. It was only when she reached a small tussock of long grass that she spotted Hyzenthlay grazing along the edge. Joining her, Clover picked at a bit of hare thistle. For a long while, she just enjoyed the quiet company, but something made her stop her grazing and sit up properly, gazing on at Hyzenthlay.

“Would you sing for me?” The question, drifting on a cool, evening breeze, had slipped off Clover’s tongue before she even knew she’d intended to ask it. And for a moment, she was stunned by her own impulses. Hyzenthlay, though, merely stopped in her browsing of a small crop of cowslip and looked at Clover. Her keen eyes were appraising, but not off-put or unkind. 

“I apologize if that’s a rather untoward request, it’s just, I’ve got this feeling it’s something I need to hear. I couldn’t explain why but...” Clover stammered, rushing to backpedal past her thoughtless question. Though, she trailed off when she realized Hyzenthlay was still just watching her, making no move to stop her rambling or leave the situation. 

“I don’t mind,” Hyzenthlay replied, turning a little to look out across the down. Her side was turned to Clover, but not in a cold or dismissive way. “Singing for you, that is,” she added when Clover kept silent, relief and surprise mingling in her chest. 

“You don’t?” Clover wondered once she was able to collect her thoughts well enough again. 

Maybe it was just due to her being a hutch rabbit for nearly all her life, but that moment when the doe began to sing back in Efrafa, it felt so... so precious, like something to be cherished and treasured. And there was a depth in her voice, poured full with emotions Clover could feel but couldn’t quantify, that made the whole experience feel rather private. Listening to a rabbit sing was like glimpsing into their soul, just for a moment, but Clover figured it had to feel rather baring. 

And for Hyzenthlay to agree to sing on such a frivolous whim of Clover’s, even if it felt like an awfully deep-rooted and meaningful whim to her, took Clover by surprise. If nearly anyone had asked the same of her, she was certain she would have refused, heat flaring up on her skin. But Hyzenthlay didn’t refuse, and Clover had to wonder if that meant something. Or perhaps she was reading too much into it all, or her experiences simply didn’t line up with what was normal for a wild rabbit. Regardless, she was grateful for Hyzenthlay’s openness and for her kindness. 

“Do you have a song in particular you want to hear?” Hyzenthlay asked, shifting her gaze to meet Clover’s. 

“Oh, I don’t know any,” Clover replied quickly, her ears lowering just a bit. 

Hyzenthlay just blinked at her for a moment, then hummed a quiet acknowledgement. Then her gaze turned thoughtful and Clover had to wonder how many songs the doe knew. She would have to ask Hyzenthlay to teach her a song or two at some point, but that could wait for another time. 

Before Clover could think on it any longer, Hyzenthlay shifted in the grass to face Clover more properly and started to sing. The sound was warm and gentle, catching in the breeze and drifting all around them. Clover swore she could feel the melody wrapping around her, sinking into her fur in a comforting embrace. The feeling she had felt the first time she had heard the rabbit sing back in Efrafa came flooding over Clover. It thrummed in her veins and sent shivers down her spine. The song felt like it melded into her skin and bones, becoming a part of her rather than just sounding in her pricked ears. 

What Clover could make of the words through her dreamy reverie told the story of a young doe, alone in the countryside. It spanned through her life, telling of journeys through wild heather and farmers’ bean fields. The rhythmic melody spoke of loneliness and longing, then of love. It was a beautiful story, tinged with a hint of sorrow, but Hyzenthlay’s tone was kept gentle and warm throughout, softening the melancholy. 

When Hyzenthlay finally finished, her voice fading out of the last note on the spring breeze, Clover found herself completely overcome with the song. She had forgotten about the picturesque downs all around her, about the fragrant vegetation at her feet. All that had been left to her was Hyzenthlay and the sound of her lilting voice. A tremor ran beneath her skin and Clover found it clinging to her, even when she shook out her coat. Everything about that moment had felt incredibly intimate and close, and she could still feel the effects of it lingering deep in her chest. 

“How was that?” Hyzenthlay asked after what felt like a long stretch of silence. Her voice wavered, just the slightest shift in pitch, but it didn’t escape Clover’s ears, and she wondered if the other doe felt the same kind of energy she did. 

“It was wonderful,” Clover replied, meaning every word of it. “If you wouldn’t mind it, I’d love to hear you sing again some other time,” she said, finding herself almost sheepish. She moved just a hair’s width closer to Hyzenthlay, the grass tickling at her paws. 

“If it’s you, I suppose I wouldn’t mind,” Hyzenthlay replied. 

Her eyes were shimmering with something Clover couldn’t quite read, but in the light of the sunset, they were beautiful. So she settled for letting herself soak up that feeling. Affection and content swelled in Clover’s chest until she thought she might burst with it. But it was all for the better. Before coming to the downs, to the warren, she never thought she could feel so full and happy. And they had all earned every inch of happiness they had gained. And Clover reveled in it, every day. It was a great reward in life, to finally be free of troubles.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I’m one of the only people who actually really enjoyed the BBC mini-series... 
> 
> Anyway, I fell in love with the scene of the doe singing before they escaped from Efrafa, and just had to write something about it. So, here we are! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
